


Four Ficlets About Bilbo

by Telstar (Altopiano)



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altopiano/pseuds/Telstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four Bilbo-centric ficlets. Each one starts with the first line of a classic of English Literature (or a close adaptation thereof).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Ficlets About Bilbo

**Rainy Day at Bag End**

There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. The rain had been steady since the previous morning; and even I have my limits. Frodo, so lately arrived here and still somewhat despondent, was disappointed. He agreed, politely, but with no great eagerness, to hear instead some tales of my Adventure. So I fetched my Book and went through to the parlour. But as I sat down, my ring slipped out on its chain; and he saw it, and...

Well, after all - what harm could come from showing him a little bit of magic on a rainy afternoon?

*

**Bilbo Worries A Bit**

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single hobbit in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. I have encountered such “truth” all my long life - even to this day, sometimes, unbelievably. And I fear that Frodo will have it even worse. _I_ never had _cornflower blue eyes_ , nor _locks of raven hue_ (from the latest scrap of verse sent him by some love lorn local lass). If truth be told, I’m as guilty as the rest of them in watching him and wondering where his fancy will fall at last, for all he’s still just a tween. He’s a _Baggins_ , after all - the heir to _Bag End. My_ heir. It is a truth I hesitate to acknowledge, but I wonder sometimes if I've done quite right in relying on Frodo to fulfil a duty that I myself so signally failed in.

*

**Bilbo Gets Introspective**

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times... And, perhaps, the best and worst of me.

The best is easy. I speak of those times to anyone who will listen – and to some who would rather not. My encounter with the Trolls; the delights of the Last Homely House; my cleverness in outwitting Smaug. Eru, the sheer, simple _fellowship_ of that year was headier than old wine! I may be no burglar nor adventurer, just an old hobbit who has seen better days. But I sometimes yearn for my doorbell to ring once more...

But then I remember the other times that I shrink from telling of, though I have written something of them, and they haunt me increasingly of late. Times when exhaustion – terror – numbing cold – or ravening, gnawing hunger had me in their grip. Folk here in the Shire don’t welcome such tales. Oh, they suffer old Mad Baggins well enough; but there’s no call to go frightening the children. Few here now remember me from the time before my Adventure, and they don’t know the _difference_ in me. They know nothing of the spiders in Mirkwood; or the Arkenstone, – how I coveted it! And no-one, not even Frodo, shall ever know the worst of all – how I cheated Gollum under the Mountain, and lied about it.

Gandalf said to me, half a lifetime ago, _You are not the hobbit that you were._ Did he see, even then, that my Adventure had changed everything?

*

**Morning At Bag End**

Last night I dreamt I went to Rivendell again. Master Elrond greeted me, and bid me stay there as long as I would. I felt almost young again, and easy. As though a heavy burden had been somehow lifted from me. I was borne to rest I know not how, and Elven music soothed me to sleep; but when I awoke, it was to the sound of clattering in the kitchen, and I found I was in my own bed, at home. Frodo brought me a cup of tea and wished me Happy Birthday, and as I returned the greeting, I patted his hand and called him a dear lad. Today he comes of age and into his inheritance, and I, I must disappear. I recalled my dream, and maybe I smiled; and Frodo, as he sometimes would when younger, climbed into my bed and put his arms around me.


End file.
